The Switch
by Bethofbells
Summary: Mindy decides to move on to the next chapter of her life, prince charming or no... and Danny can only look on helplessly. ("The Switch" AU... Danny is a little more neurotic than usual)
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: Another AU that I should put off until I finish the other AU.. oh well.. inspired by one of my favorite adorable movies "the Switch"**

Danny didn't believe in fate, not really. The only real faith he had was of the religious kind, and even he could admit that he wasn't as devoted to that way of thinking as most practicing Catholics. The world was an awful place. Terrible things happened to good people and certainly the opposite was true. How else could you explain the popularity of boy bands?

What he did believe in was hard work and perseverance. It was a belief system that had gotten him pretty far in life. Who would argue with a successful Manhattan doctor? Mindy would, but she pretty much argued with him at every opportunity, so that didn't really count.

The problem with living his life this way was that it left little wiggle room when it came to matters of the heart. Without belief in fate, all he had was the idea that love could be worked for, earned like a wage at the end of a laborious and physically taxing job. it didn't take long for that notion to be blown to pieces.

He'd worked so hard to keep his relationship with Christina afloat, and it had still sunk faster than the titanic, violins playing mournfully as he sunk below the freezing waters. Mindy had often told him it just wasn't meant to be, that fate had other plans for Daniel Castellano.

He'd long since learned not to contradict this particular coping skill of hers. If he poked too many holes in it, she'd be lying in the floor in a tearstained mess every time a date didn't go well. As it was, Mindy sprawled like a starfish on the plush carpet of her office was still a bi-monthly occurrence.

As much as her flare for the dramatic pushed his buttons, there were times when he couldn't help but wonder what she thought was in store for him. When the sun came through the window of her office in just the right way, making a halo of golden light around her dark head, he thought maybe something out there in the universe was trying to tell him to pay attention. He couldn't help but listen, a gentle ache somewhere in the vicinity of his heart pulsing when she would look up at him.

Her last relationship had ended rather surprisingly, slowing down into an amicable parting of ways, rather than hurtling toward the fiery collision he'd come to expect. Cliff wasn't right for her, she'd said. Danny could have told her that from the very beginning, his heart dropping clear out of his ribcage when she'd set her sights on the divorce attorney.

There had been a rocky moment early on in that particular relationship that had pitched Danny closer to Mindy, suddenly feeling as though he was losing the most valuable thing in his life. Fear of the unknown had kept his hands curled around the arm of his seat, waiting for her to come back to him. She always came back to him, that at least he was sure of. He'd known Cliff wouldn't last, none of them ever did.

Danny had always thought they might end up together, a distant picture of the two of them curled up together on his couch kept him warm through the lonelier parts of his life. The image was a safety net. He could have his cake and eat it too; never run the risk of ruining things with a relationship, but still have a companion. He'd been there through all her bad relationships, the drama of alcohol related humiliations, the cheating exes. One thing never changed; when the chips were down, she turned to him. They were friends, bosom buddies as his mother would say. She told him her deepest fears and listened to his drunken voicemails about the state of the postal service. For Danny, that fuzzy far away image was enough, it was comforting, and not all that scary.

She'd been single now for longer than any period since he'd met her. It seemed she was adjusting to the same kind of life as him, finding companionship in her friends, settling for what this life really has to offer. They walked to the subway together every day after work, and she frequently skipped her stop to ride on over to his place for dinner. That was the plan tonight. She'd popped her head in his office fifteen minutes before five and simply said, "Dinner?"

He hadn't even vocalized his response, merely looking at her over the tops of his reading glasses to nod.

He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her around a sticky looking puddle on the pavement. She looked up at him, trepidation in her eyes, determination in the set of her mouth. Taking a deep breath, seemingly reading his thoughts, she asked, "Danny, we're friends, right?"

It was a preamble, an introduction to some weighty topic she didn't really want to broach. He could tell. Her breathing was thready, her normal poise faltering under his hesitation. He shook himself out of his own thoughts. "Yeah, of course, we're friends, have been for a long time now."

She nodded, looking ahead as she walked. "Well, _friend_ ," she said, placing heavy emphasis on the word, "I just wanted you to be the first to know."

Danny's stomach dropped to his toes, the hot lead of panic settling in his limbs. No one ever started a pleasant conversation with that phrase. He braced himself for the worst. She could be dying, or maybe she was being charged with some felony that would turn all their lives upside down. His comforting illusion dropped completely out of sight, suddenly obliterated by the dark and twisty path of a life without her. His brain spun with the possibilities, the worst of which being that she was leaving… leaving him.

He was quiet, unable to formulate the acceptable social response to her statement, instead waiting for her to tear him apart with her announcement. The breath caught in his chest painfully, his feet stopping in their tracks.

She noticed his hesitation, turning to face him. She folded her hands over her abdomen and said, "I'm going to have a baby."

"You're pregnant?" He dropped his hand from where it was hovering, just inches away from her, as though he were reaching to reel her back in. The crack in his voice was embarrassing, and he could feel the tops of his ears going hot.

Her hands jerked away from her midsection, a sheepish look on her face. "Oh shit, I probably should put my hands there when I say that." She shook her head, eyes sparkling with happiness. "I'm not pregnant, but I'm going to be."

"Huh?"

She laughed and reached out to loop her arm under his, nudging him back into motion. "As you once so rudely pointed out, I have a biological clock that's ticking pretty loudly." She sighed, maneuvering through tourists looking into shop windows. The christmas displays twinkled with strings of lights, sparkling as they glinted off the strategically placed tinsil.

"But you're not dating anyone… Wait, _are_ you seeing someone?" He was accusatory. Had she been hiding some guy from him? He bristled, torn between feeling indignant and hurt.

"No, no… I'm just tired of waiting for something that's probably never going to happen, and I do want a child. It's quickly becoming more important that finding a prince charming."

"This is insane."

"Hey, buster, don't go calling me crazy," she countered, the fire going out of her in mere seconds. She shrugged, and spoke quietly. "What choice do I have?"

"You could… adopt later, if it's too late to have a child when you find someone you love." The word love always felt funny in his mouth, and in this particular case it was like talking around a prickly piece of cactus.

Her shoulders slumped. "I know. I guess, maybe it's selfish of me, but I want to feel that life inside of me, to hold that hot and squirming infant to my chest when she takes her first squawling scream. I want her to be part of me."

He peered at her. She was wearing her black framed glasses, her hair falling in thick waves down to her shoulders. The multicolored christmas decorations reflected off of her like dozens of fairy lights. Danny swallowed hard at the sensation in his chest, the unwinding of a glowing thread around his heart as she slipped farther away from him.

He cleared his throat. "I guess I get that." Pushing past the ache, he asked. "So, a donor?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but you know as well as I do how shady some of those clinics are, slapping 'rocket scientist' labels on vials of 'aspiring actor.' It scares me. What if I get the sperm of a serial killer? There have been studies! Those things are genetic!"

He laughed. Maybe this was just one of her schemes, destined to fall by the wayside before anyone's life was changed drastically. He was able to breathe again. "Poor kid would already be taking his chances with your genetics."

She elbowed him, a sense of relief in her smile. "You don't perchance know any nordic billionaires willing to part with some awesome sauce, do you?"

"Don't ever call it sauce again." He shook his head. "Are you really asking me for help? Because I just don't think this is a good idea, Min. You can't just give up on… all those things you've always talked about. The house, the husband..."

She shook her head. "I was delusional. This is the way it's meant to happen." She reached down in her bag, digging fruitlessly for a few seconds before pulling out a crumpled brochure. "I'd been thinking about it a lot the past few weeks, and look what I found in my inbox this morning. It's destiny."

He looked down at the glossy paper, squinting without his reading glasses. "Fertility Goddess Party?" He handed it back to her. "What the hell is that?"

"It's all very spiritual. The insemination is done at home after you have this big party, everyone sends you good vibes before the main event. The sauce is fresh." Danny made a face, but she just continued. "Duncan's success rate is one hundred percent. That's unheard of."

"Deslaurier? You gotta be kidding me."

"I only have one shot, if that wizard can do some mumbo jumbo that makes it happen, why not let him burn sage and chant a few midwife spells in my vicinity?"

"Because it's hokum."

"Your world must be so dreary and boring. No magic for Daniel Castellano, just seminal fluid and dividing cells, and yaaaawn."

He couldn't tell her that she made him want to believe in magic. That watching her flutter happily about her life in spite of the challenges she sometimes faced made him feel lighter. He was staring at her again, fingers twitching with the urge to grab her and shake some sense into her. "We're doctors... There's enough magic in the way it actually works."

She rolled her eyes, sighing she moved past his objections. "I just need to find the right guy. Surely you know someone who might be interested. I'm coming up empty handed, figuratively anyway. Most of the men in my circle of friends are either exes that I'm _not_ on good terms with, or psychotic coke fiends."

"Yeah, Josh was a real charmer."

She shot him a look. "So?"

The atmosphere between them thickened, expectation written all over her face like he had a rolodex of potential sperm donors in his back pocket. The notion made him a little sick.

"What's wrong with me?" He vocalized the question without thinking, mortification settling over him almost immediately.

She snorted. "Danny, come on."

"What? Seriously, what puts me out of the pool?"

"Um, besides the fact that your old man sperm probably have limited motility, hobbling around on their walkers and all?"

She was trying to be funny, but Danny couldn't take the humor, the corners of his mouth turning down in irritation. Sobering, she looked directly in the eyes and said, "You're pessimistic, and you hate change. It's one thing for my best friend to be that way, you're kind of adorable in your grouchiness, but raising a kid like that?" She laughed. "Can you imagine me trying to convince a three year old that switching from velcro to laces isn't the end of the world?" She squeezed at his arm affectionately, trying to soften the blow. "Danny, we both know you don't want your offspring to be predisposed to refined sugar addiction. You have to admit, it would be weird if we had a kid together."

The thing of it was, he didn't think it would be strange at all. He could so easily picture a child with Mindy's soft brown eyes, and his own curling eyelashes. It made him feel weak with longing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to really think about what she said. In all likelihood, she would want the biological father to have nothing to do with the child, and he couldn't abide by that. So maybe she was right after all. "First of all, my guys are fine, alright… but I guess… yeah it would be strange."

She cut him a sideways glance, eyes narrowing slightly as he shifted uncomfortably. He felt his cheeks pink, flipping up his collar to hide the evidence of his discomfort. "Honestly Mindy, I don't know anyone. You have _some_ time don't you?"

She conceded his point. "Yes, everything looks good… down there, so to speak. So I can take my time with this."

"So no calling psychotic exes?"

"They aren't _all_ crazy. Casey was a good guy… really good actually." She tapped her chin in thought. "You know, calling Casey might not be such a bad idea."

The excitement was back in her eyes, and Danny felt suddenly nauseated.

"He's tall, and blonde, and good looking. He has an entrepreneurial spirit and unflagging optimism. This really could be great."

She jumped up on her tiptoes, dropping a smacking kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Danny. I knew you'd have a good idea."

She skipped away from him, pulling out her phone as she ducked into a nearby bookstore. Presumably she just needed a quiet place to make an important phone call. Danny stood frozen in place, a raw spot inside of him bleeding as she walked away with a piece of him. He'd been lulled into a false sense of security over the past year, thinking she was happy with the status quo. Surely Casey wouldn't be lunatic enough to agree to Mindy's madcap scheme. Someone had to stop this.


	2. Chapter 2

When Mindy really wanted something, she was an unstoppable locomotive. Casey had declined her invitation to father a beautiful mixed-race child, and sure she'd spent the subsequent weekend swimming in the bottom of a bottle of her favorite California red, but it hadn't deterred her from the end goal. Within two weeks she was strutting around the office, positively crowing about how smart she was, grinning ear to ear in the most irritating fashion.

She sat on the edge of Danny's desk, distractedly picking up and putting down the assorted kitsch. He tried not to flinch when she dropped his prized baseball to the industrial gray carpeting. He even kept his lips pressed tight together when she started tossing the thing back and forth, her lacquered nails scraping the discolored leather. It was only with she started thoughtfully rubbing her thumb over Mickey Mantle's already faded signature that he popped up out of his chair and snatched the thing from her. "Stop manhandling my two thousand dollar baseball, and tell me the good news."

Her eyes sparkled, the smile on her face getting even wider as she ignored his snappish command. She was vibrating with excitement, hands fluttering with nervous energy. "I've found the _one_."

"The one?" Danny's stomach dropped to his toes, a hollow emptiness replacing it. He'd known all along exactly why she was so happy today. From the very moment she'd stepped singing through the elevator doors he'd known. It had followed him around like an ominous cloud all day, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to open up and drench him.

She nodded, snatching the snow-globe from the corner of his desk. Little pieces of fake snow fluttered down over the Empire State Building as she shook it absentmindedly. It was a gift from her, the first Christmas she'd been at the practice. He'd barely uttered a long-suffering 'thank you' when she'd given him a box wrapped in shiny gold paper. The gift had struck him as completely ridiculous, giving a native New Yorker some cheesy tourist knick-knack, but now he felt differently, knowing the special part of her heart she reserved for the monument.

She listed off the many attributes of her newfound co-procreator (a term Danny took issue with), laughing as she described how his eyes were a shade of blue she'd only ever seen in the movies. "I swear, I thought that was just some fancy cinematographer's trick, but Danny, it's real. It's like the Caribbean ocean mixed with the frost blue of arctic glaciers. And he's got this thick wavy blond hair, not too wavy you know, but just the right amount. It falls across his forehead when he looks down at me, which he does all the time because he's so tall." She sighed, setting the snow-globe down with a thump.

He was used to this, her mooning over some guy in his office while he tried to feign interest. It always bothered him, a twinge of envy streaking through him like lightning on a hot summer night each time she got those stars in her eyes, but it was never enough to spur him into action. Uncertainty always held him back.

This time the jealousy was coming in waves, crashing over him like a tsunami. He could barely concentrate on what she was saying, the whooshing in his ears drowning out the ecstatic sound of her voice. He'd worn the writing off the side of the pen in his hand, the sweat of his fingers making the surface slick. He was a mess, and he couldn't bite his tongue any longer. "This is a mistake. You have to see that. Come on, Mindy."

This word-vomit was not received well. She snapped her mouth shut, the corners turning down in an angry frown. "We've talked about this. I thought you were going to be supportive."

He clenched his jaw, feeling the muscle at his temple bunch painfully. "I've tried, I really have, but this…" Sighing, he leaned forward. "Are you really ready for this? A child is a big responsibility. I don't know if you fully understand what you're getting into."

She crossed her arms, a sure sign that he was about to lose an argument. It wasn't easy to watch her like this, determined and hurt all at once. "I've thought about it, Daniel. I've made lists of pros and cons. I've looked and looked for a way to do it differently. I _want_ a child. Do you think I don't know it's going to be hard? I know it's not all fun and games. I know it will be difficult to do alone, but I want to be a mother, Danny. You don't think I can do it?"

The hurt, that was what he couldn't stand to see. It was all bullshit, his excuses for not liking her plan to have a child. She would be a great mother, the love in her knew no bounds, and she was smart as hell. He didn't doubt her for a second. "You'll be a wonderful mom. I know that… It's just…"

"What Danny? Spit it out."

This was his opportunity to lay it all out on the line, for him to tell her that he constantly thought about what it might be like to wake up every morning next to her, that maybe this wasn't her only option. He got breathless when he thought about telling her that he could see her having everything she ever wanted…. with him. He swallowed, breaking the awkward silence. "Don't you think a kid needs a dad? It's hard growing up without one, Min."

Her face softened, just like he knew it would. Shame spiraled through him. He hated being manipulative, but it was easy to slide into when he felt like he was losing the most important thing in his life. He swallowed, ready to take it back, pretend this entire conversation never happened, but she was already sliding off her perch. Rounding the desk, she leaned forward and slipped her arms around Danny in an affectionate hug.

It was a surprise attack, his own arms instinctively encircling her waist. She squeezed gently at his shoulder, voice full of sympathy as she spoke in his ear. "I know, Danny. But this is different. Please understand this is different."

He nodded against her, chin resting briefly on her shoulder before she began to pull away. He looked down at his hands when she completely withdrew, clearing his throat to say, "I understand."

When he looked back up, her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, a little smile peeking back through the serious expression. "I'm really lucky to have such a good friend"

Danny nodded again, feeling like a plastic bobble head, the spring loose and wobbly. She left him, his office emptier than before. The clock on the wall ticked out the passing seconds, the sound too loud in his ears. He cursed himself for his cowardice, and began to work on the lies he had to tell himself. Things were really better this way. He wouldn't have been a very good dad anyway, not much of an example to follow really. When the invitation to her Fertility Goddess Party landed on his desk a week later, he even tamped down the urge to crumple the cardstock into a tiny ball and toss it angrily into his wastebasket.


End file.
